


Lacerations

by penisparker



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penisparker/pseuds/penisparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wonders how she got into this, how a man who runs around fighting people and getting broken, so broken, constantly, could be so deftly interwoven with her daily life that he could call at four in the morning and she’d pick up without a second-thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacerations

When her burner phone rings at four in the morning, she picks up on the first ring. Her heart is beating a mile a minute in her chest, and she wonders if he could hear it if he focuses hard enough. “Who could you possibly be fighting at four in the morning –“

“I’m not fighting anyone. Or bleeding, for that matter.”

Claire inhales, exhales. Wonders how she got into this, how a man who runs around fighting people and getting broken, so broken, _constantly_ , could be so deftly interwoven with her daily life that he could call at four in the morning and she’d pick up without a second-thought. She doesn't regret a single second of – whatever _this_ is, not really, but she thinks that he does. She knows that he does, from his hesitance to continue the conversation. “Let me guess. You called because you wanted to hear the sound of my voice?”

“It’s very soothing,” he says, but she hears _I miss you_ , so she bites her lip to hide her smile.

“Well, considering your night-time job, you would've heard it soon enough.” She burrows herself under the covers, listening to him breathe. “Then again, maybe not. How’s the new suit?”

“Better than my old one.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Claire says, and sighs when he laughs. She misses him too, more than she’d like to admit.

“Yeah…Foggy said the horns were too much.”

“Well, you are Daredevil, it’d be weird if you  _didn't_  have horns.  Good for you, though – the less lacerations for me to stitch up, the better.” She’s lying, of course, but he can’t hear her heartbeat, so it doesn't really matter. Matt chuckles and goes silent again, his breath evening out. “Are you – are you going to sleep?” She whispers, and his yawn is answer enough.  “I guess this means goodnight, Matt –“

“Don’t hang up, Claire.” He sounds like he’s in pain, he sounds tired, he sounds _desperate._

“I won’t hang up, but I _will_ go to sleep. It’s four thirty and I have to be at the hospital at six.” She lays the phone down next to her, gently, and closes her eyes. They breathe, and it’s silent – as silent as New York City can be, at any rate.  When she wakes, the sun streaking through the window and heating her skin, she hears an alarm blaring over the phone. Claire stretches, grabs her scrubs, and starts her shower. She’s got her ear pressed to her phone, and is pleased to hear the sounds of Matt starting his own day: water running, clothes being pulled off hangers, bread being put into a toaster.

“I thought you were going to hang up, actually,” he says after a moment, and she can hear the sizzle of a pan.

“I said I wouldn't, so I didn't.” She grins, before picking up her scrubs from the floor. “I haven’t washed my scrubs in three days, when does the smell start to get noticeable?”

“I could probably smell you all the way from Hell’s Kitchen, if that’s any indication,” he replies, and she can hear him taking out the bread from the toaster. For a quick second, she wishes he was _here_ and that she wasn't just talking to him over the phone, but this is easier. _This_ , hearing that he’s alive and breathing is more than enough for her.

“Three-day old scrubs it is, then!” She throws them onto her bed and grabs a towel. “Alright, this is it. Hang up.”

“No, you.”

Claire sighs. “Are we really gonna do this?”

“Do what?” Matt asks, and he sounds innocent enough, but she knows he’s not.

“The hang up game.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“I can’t hear your heartbeat, or smell your sweat to see if you’re lying, or anything like that, so I’m just going to hang up.” Claire opens the door to her bathroom and smiles as steam envelopes around her. Matt laughs over the phone, and she feels her morning brightening.

“Goodbye, Claire.”

“Goodbye, Matt,” she says as she hangs up, but she wishes she didn't have to.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope fanfic for this loooooooovely ship picks up soon


End file.
